Run
by HippieKittens
Summary: Layla Wright had no inkling that magic existed, the name Voldemort went right over her head and she had no clue what a muggle was. So how is it that she got stuck right smack in the middle of a wizarding war? Post-Battle of Hogwarts with an alternate ending.
1. i expect the unexpected

RUN

Of all the things I expected out of my normal day of work, the events that ultimately unfolded were not among them. There I was, sitting at the old-fashioned cash register, ringing up an elderly man with a Hitler mustache who was buying a rusty contraption that was apparently supposed to weigh eggs, when he walked in.

He was tall and strikingly blonde. His eyes were framed with black shadows and his frame was thin-too thin. And though all these features were distinctive, none of them stood out like his demeanor. He looked over his shoulder frantically every few seconds as he pretended to browse the corroded antiques in the shop. He was standing so straight that I could have swore he had a rod through the middle of him. And weirdest of all, he had a long stick in his hand that he gripped as if it would disappear at any minute.

I told Hitler to have a good day and as he walked out, my eyes went straight to the blonde stranger. My first thought was that he was on drugs-the kind that made you paranoid. But upon further inspection, he didn't look inebriated. He just looked...nervous. And very, _very_ stressed.

As his fingers-not the fingers with the stick, they still held tight-ran across an armoire, he kept his eyes on the window. They looked colorless from here, just like his complexion, though they were probably gray or a very light blue. I couldn't tell.

During my very thorough inspection, I got so lost in cataloging his features and analyzing his movements that I didn't realize he was looking back at me until it was beyond the point of a stalker-stare. I met his eyes for a split second-they were gray after all-and immediately pointed my stare back down at the counter-top.

_Shoot_, I thought. _He's going to think I'm a psycho_. But when I looked back up, his gaze had returned to the glass. I became curious. What could he possibly be looking at for so long? I looked too. But the only thing that registered was the fact that I really needed to clean the window. Tiny fingerprints covered the surface and distracted me from anything that was going on outside. Maybe that's what he was looking at too...

But then I saw them. A group of three men with long, billowing, black robes. They too had sticks. I scratched my head with the tip of my index fingernail. Maybe they were playing a game? I looked back to see if there was any recognition in the blonde stranger's face, but he was gone. Vanished.

"Hello?" I called out, making my way around the counter. I looked down the aisle he was in. Nothing. I went to the next aisle. Nothing. When I reached the final aisle, he was there, crouching down with his stick close to his chest, breathing heavily.

"Um... Do you need help with something?" I asked awkwardly, not versed in these types of situations.

"I would get out of here if I were you," he said in a sober tone, not even bothering to look at me.

That's when my mind started doing what it does best: overworking. Could there be robbery about to occur? Are those guys apart a gang? Are they coming to kill him...or me?

My thoughts came to an abrupt halt when the bell, signaling that the door was opened, rang overhead. There they were, with a distinct air of danger around them, hanging out in the doorway, surveying the shop for whatever they were looking for-which was probably the guy crouching next to me.

I knew I should be afraid, and I was, just not enough to cower down in fear. "Can I help you?" I asked, trying to hide the weakness that I felt.

They didn't answer but the beefy one in the middle called out, "We know you're in here, Malfoy. You might as well come out now and save us the trouble of killing this poor muggle... Of course, we might just do that anyway."

I wasn't exactly sure what a muggle was, but I had an inkling that he was talking about me. My heart raced as I crouched down slowly. I felt like an idiot, a helpless, pathetic idiot. But what was new? This situation, certainly, but this feeling was definitely not.

A deafening roar flew into my ear canal and crashed into my eardrums, giving me an instant headache. The sound of glass breaking overwhelmed my senses and I knew that the first shelf of antiques had been knocked over. _Boom_. Another shelf. There was only one left, so before I could even think twice, I grabbed the arm of the nervous wreck-though now I could understand his nervousness-and pulled him along.

We reached the check-out counter just as the last shelf was being blown to bits. That's when I noticed that the cloaked men hadn't left their position at the front door. How could they have done all of that damage without moving?

My head spun as I searched my head for ideas. How would we get out of this tight spot? How could I defend myself against a group of people who didn't even have to move to cause destruction? The guy next to me seemed useless-all he had was a stick-so I was on my own.

My eyes scanned my surroundings for a weapon. The swords wouldn't do any good since they wouldn't reach where I needed them to.

_A gun_. Immediately after remembering the collection of antique guns, I turned in the tight space and broke the glass casing that held the weapons with my foot.

I felt a large shard slice it's way into my skin and I cried out, gritting my teeth and ripping it back out. Blood soaked the legs of my jeans and my stomach churned. I didn't dare look at the damage but instead, my hand went to a long barrel pistol and the corresponding bullets. Thanking the heavens that my granddad taught me to load and shoot a gun, I did just that. I slid the bullets in and took a few deep breaths before turning back around.

During these few seconds that I was preoccupied, 'Malfoy' had came back to life. He was leaning over the counter, pointing his stick over the top, and then crouching back down. I noticed the things flying off the shelves over the top of us as streams of light collided with them. I dodged an incredibly heavy iron and noticed that the beams of light were coming out of _the sticks_.

I would have given it much more thought under normal circumstances, but right now, my body was acting faster than my head. I leaned over the counter and aimed straight at one of the men. He was preoccupied with my unknown companion, so I could shoot straight. I lined up the barrel with his body and pulled the trigger. And as soon as I heard the explosion that companied my shot, that was it. I looked away. I didn't want to see the damage, but when he disappeared from my peripheral vision, I knew he was down.

The other men looked at me in shock. I took this opportunity to fire another round, and another, and soon, before they even realized what was happening, it was over. They lay on the ground, either in silence or moaning in pain. The gun suddenly felt heavy and hot in my hand. I dropped it and it landed on the counter with a sound that was so loud in the moment, I jumped.

The entire shop was in ruin. Every piece that I had considered rubbish before now felt like a precious gemstone as it lay, either melted or warped, on the floor. I was going to be in so much trouble with my boss.

"What the hell just happened?" I finally let out in a whooshing breath.

I looked at my neighbor for an answer, but instead, he leaned over counter and vomited everywhere. I turned my head swiftly and plugged my nose. I didn't want to be next. I already felt nauseous.

I could hear him trying to catch his breath, forcing each breath to circulate from his lungs to his mouth repeatedly. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he spoke. "Death Eaters."

I felt a strong wave of disappointment. That's all he has to say? Death Eaters? What does that even mean? "I'm sorry, what did you just say? What the hell is a Death Eater? And what's a muggle for that matter? And what is that?" I asked frantically, gesturing to his stick.

He put his head in his hands, rubbing his temples and sighing. I waited for an explanation-one that wouldn't make me feel crazy or in need of medical attention, but it never came.

"I need to go. And so do you. You need to get far, far away from here." He stood up then, and walked out of the door, even more prominently slumped than before.

I looked after him, dumbfounded. Somebody had just tried to kill me and he was going to walk away without any explanation? I grabbed my bag, the gun, and the pack of bullets, just in case, and decided to follow him out the door.

I knew I should have called the police, but something held me back. And I wasn't sure what that something was, but as I stepped over one of the bodies-lifeless or not, I didn't want to know-I had a strong sensation that something was off, _really off_.

"Wait!" I yelled after him. The streets were eerily silent and empty. It was strange to see the rest of the world was unaffected, but as I peered into the windows of the buildings around me, I realized that wasn't the case. Every single one of them looked destroyed. How did I not hear any of this?

I ran up to him when he didn't stop, my leg screaming in pain. "What happened back there? What happened to all the shops? Who are you?"

He sighed again. The shadows under his eyes seemed to deepen. "Look, I'm sorry, but I can't really explain right now. I have to get out of here. You know those guys back there? Yeah, only a fraction of what's coming. You'd be smart to stay out of the way."

"You mean, like that guy?" I asked in a clipped voice, pointing to the cloaked man just a few feet away from us. He hadn't noticed us yet, but it was only a matter of time.

"_Shit_," he said through gritted teeth. And before I could even think, he grabbed my arm and turned on the spot, taking me with him.

I felt like I was being sucked down a too-tight tube, and taking a ride on a rollercoaster at the same time. I saw flashes of landscapes and scenery, passing by too quickly for me to fully retain anything, and then it was over.

My body collided with moist ground and I inhaled a cloud of dirt. Coughing, I sat up, but the motion was too much for my recovering body, and this time it was my turn to spill out the contents of my stomach, which wasn't much since those 'Death Eaters' had made me miss lunch.

After wiping my mouth and smoothing back the dyed red hair-which looked too much like a curtain of blood right now for my liking-out of my face, I narrowed my eyes at the blonde. "Am I ever going to get an explanation for this..._this_...whatever just happened?" I asked, my voice cracking and showing my fear and confusion.

He shrugged, his face a mixture of pity and nerves. "I'm Draco," he finally said, as if it should answer my question.

I could press it, but I figured that we should know each others names, if nothing else. "I'm Layla."

And in that seemingly insignificant moment-just a simple exchange of names-my life changed forever.


	2. ii abandoned house

Almost immediately after we introduced ourself, Draco was back on his feet. "We have to leave here. And fast. They started tracking all of the magic use recently so they'll be coming. I jumped between a few places before bringing us here so it should at least slow them down," he said matter-of-factly, grabbing my hand to help me up.

I gaped at him, getting up whilst my leg throbbed almost intolerably. "You act like I should know what those words mean."

Draco sighed again. He seemed to be doing that a lot. "I guess I should probably explain... How about we get out of here first, before the Death Eaters come to kill us, and_ then_ I'll explain. Does that sound alright to you?"

I shrugged and followed him. We were in the middle of a field that was just outside a village. Little houses and shops sat in a cluster and people walked the streets, paying us no mind. With a pang, I realized that it looked a lot like my village. I wondered what my parent's would say about my sudden disappearance and what everyone would do about the shops being destroyed. So much was left behind in just a few seconds.

We made our way to the village, blending in with the townspeople as I followed Draco to wherever it was that he was taking me. I wanted to badly to ask, to feed my desire to know _something_, but I held it back. I would find out soon enough.

And I did. We headed up the walkway to the one house that was ugly enough to bring down the value of the rest of the village. The brick red paint on the wood structure was almost entirely peeled off, the door was only hanging by one hinge, four out of the five windows were busted and the inside was painted with graffiti. It smelled like spray paint and trash.

It was my turn to sigh. "Are we seriously going to stay here?" I complained.

"We don't exactly have much choice. If you have better idea then, by all means, speak up."

I followed him into the abandoned house. The inside was decaying and probably held about five types of mold within the walls. There was one big room with nothing to signal that that was any different when it was an inhabitable space. The leftover parts from the stove and washer stuck out of the floor and there was a hole in the wall where I dryer would have went. The left hand corner of the ceiling was completely charred. Pieces of trash were scattered across the floor and 'wankers' was painted across an entire wall.

"Lovely," I mumbled, astounded that I was in this situation. My adrenaline was waning and a wave of exhaustion and disbelief washed over me. Here I was, with a complete stranger who apparently had special powers, preparing to spend the night in an abandoned house in God knows where, after just having killed or injured three grown men. This could only happen to me.

Draco took it upon himself to sit in a holey arm chair that had been left by the previous owner. I let him have it since there was a pungent smell of mildew wafting from it. I opted for the floor, sliding down the damp wall behind me and landing on an empty McDonalds cup, which I promptly moved. "So, are you going to explain now?"

"I said I would, so I will. But it'll take awhile."

I gestured to our surroundings. "It doesn't look like I have much else to do. Look, I'm trusting that you aren't a murderer so the least you can do is give me a little information."

His eyes closed for a moment and he let out a deep breath. When he opened them again, his gray eyes looked tired. They were such a stark contrast from my almost black eyes. I was instantly jealous, always coveting those who had light irises. "I'm a wizard," he said abruptly, snapping me out of my trance.

I laughed instinctively, which is what I always did in an uncomfortable situation. "Right."

"Did you not see the fight back there? With my wand?" he said, picking his stick back up and showing it to me. "I know you're a muggle but I mean,_ c'mon_. What else could explain what just happened?"

"Prove it."

"I already did! How do you think we got here? I apparated us. We're at least a dozen villages away from yours. Besides, the Ministry is tracking all magic use now. If I prove it to you, they'll find us and we'll be killed." He put his wand in his lap, keeping a firm grip.

My head was spinning. Nothing he was saying made sense to me. Magic didn't exist... Right? "Why are they trying to kill you?" I asked when nothing else came to mind.

"My family and I betrayed...He Who Must Not Be Named during the Battle of Hogwarts... Ugh," he groaned, "I guess I should explain what happened before...

"There is a dark wizard whose name we don't speak. He can't be killed... Well, there was only one person who had the ability to get rid of him and...he died during the battle. Hogwarts is the school I went to... It was my home. And he destroyed it in the process. Now he's taken over the entire wizarding population and is in the process of enslaving the muggles too. And they're after me because my family betrayed him. My mother and father have already been killed... But I got away. They want to make an example of me, so I've been on the run since."

I couldn't comprehend a word. I got from my seat and walked towards him and without even thinking twice, I pinched his arm. Yep, he was solid. And annoyed, judging by the sound that came out of his mouth. "What was that for?"

"I was just making sure that you weren't a figment of my imagination. This sounds absolutely insane. Am I insane? Have I suffered a psychotic break?"

"Probably," he mumbled, rubbing his tender arm.

I ignored him and returned back to my spot. My head was telling me to run for the hills but the rest of me...the rest of me still wasn't sure what to think. But where would I go anyway? My intuition was the mouthiest of all, as usual, screaming,_ he's telling the truth. He's telling the truth_. "Sorry about your parents."

"Thanks."

It was quiet for a few minutes. The sky had started to darken outside, the air became chilly, and the crickets began to sing. "So, why is it that only one person could stop him? What's so great about him?"

Draco seemed to zone out at that moment. He spoke but he was somewhere else entirely. "It was Harry Potter. The boy who lived. You-Know-Who tried to kill him when he was a baby but he couldn't. Ever since then, it's been a race to see who can kill who first...until recently, anyway. He went to my school... I've known him since we were eleven." He grew even quieter. "He saved my life the day that he died."

I didn't know what to say. It seemed that he and this Harry Potter he spoke of both lived a pretty eventful and tragic existence. Nothing I've been through could ever compare.

"So," he began again after a moment. "What about you? Now you have what you need to know, I think it's my turn to decide whether or not you're going to murder me."

"Well, I don't have as much...history. I work, or _worked_, at that antique shop and have since I was a teenager. I got into Oxford but some stuff happened and I didn't get to go. I'm pretty good at shooting guns, in case you didn't notice. And my parents are probably having an aneurysm right now. And that's probably everything. I lead a dull life."

"Until Death Eaters destroyed your work place and you got pulled into a wizarding war?"

"Pretty much."

He gave a light, breathy laugh, but nothing more. Even then it sounded foreign. Even though I had just met him, I could tell that he hadn't done that in awhile. "Look, I know you want to go home, but it's probably going to be a few days before we can circle back to your village. I hope that's fine."

"Sure," I said, despite the fact that I would probably be reported as kidnapped by that time.

I felt a drop of liquid come down on my head. And another. And another. Then soon, the rain was coming down full force. The sound was almost deafening in the house, where there was no where to hide from it. "Oh great!" I said exasperatedly, throwing my hands up.

I looked around for shelter just as Draco jumped up. We were both practically soaked by the time that we noticed one single part of the house that seemed to be shielded from the rain. A measley corner that would only fit one of us comfortably and two of us if we huddled together.

I looked at Draco with a sheepish smile. "Looks like we have to share."

He looked from me to the corner interchangeably a few times before saying, "It's okay. I can just sleep in the rain."

I sighed loudly. "Don't be ridiculous. I don't have cooties. It'll be fine. Just don't think about it."

I walked over to the corner and laid down on the damp floor boards, facing the wall. My arm was being used as a pillow and pieces of my hair stuck to my face. The cool air made the untreated wound on my leg throb, but other than that, I wasn't too miserable.

I felt Draco move the boards underneath us as he walked towards me. Each one creaked with his movements and that's how I knew he was laying down. His back and shoulders met mine, though I wouldn't be surprised if he was halfway in the rain. His body heat warmed me instantly and lulled me into a stupor. All the events of the day had drained me and I hadn't even fully registered them. I could only imagine what these next few days were going to be like.

"Goodnight," I said, just loud enough for him to hear.

"Goodnight," he replied after a brief hesitation.

Some part of me, buried deep down, knew that his body heat wasn't the only thing making my face burn, despite the cold rain. But that wasn't something either of us was ready to admit.


	3. iii hitchhiking

The next morning was awkward to say the least. "So, uh, I thought we could walk to the next village today." His face was red and it had been that color since we'd woken up. He had apparently turned over in the middle of the night and cuddled up against me to warm up. Needless to say, he was embarrassed.

"_Walk_? I don't think so," I said adamantly. We were standing outside of the house now, leaning on the fragile-looking yet surprising sturdy structure. The ground was wet and muddy, bathing my white tennis shoes in icky brown muck which I was currently trying to scrape off with a stick. It was no use though, since we'd be trekking through it again soon so I quickly gave up, throwing the stick on the ground in annoyance.

"What else are we supposed to do? I've been walking from place to place for weeks now," Draco argued. He seemed to be getting over his earlier embarrassment, or at least forgetting about it momentarily.

"Can't we do that magic thing that you did yesterday?"

"What part of 'they're tracking all magic use' did you not understand?"

I sighed. "Well, we're sure as hell not walking. I'll think of something," I promised, already digging in my bag that was wrapped across my torso. I grabbed a hair tie and put my hair up, which is what I always did when I had to think.

"Why is your shirt all red?" he asked once my hair was up.

I looked at him curiously before stretching out my shirt so I could see what he was talking about. I groaned when I realized what had happened. "The rain got my hair wet... This color always stains everything," I explained, trying to get rid of it to no avail.

When I realized it was a lost cause, I began digging through my bag again, which was completely soaked on the inside.. My heart lept when I saw my cell phone and I took it out with a grin on my face. "I can just call my parents to come get us!" I squealed, attempting to turn it on.

But it didn't work. Frustrated, I tried again. Nothing. "Great! My phone is ruined. God, my parents are going to be so mad..."

I heard Draco snort from where he was standing. Just as I was about to say something, I remembered that he didn't even have parents anymore. And here I was, worrying about what mine would say about my phone. My problems were so insignificant in comparison. "I know how you feel...," I began. "About the parent situation, I mean."

"Do you?" he said in a grim tone, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Well, sort of. I mean, obviously my parents are still alive but...remember when I said that I got into Oxford but couldn't go because of...stuff? Well, my dad got cancer and I swear, for months, I honestly thought he was going to die. It was so hard..."

"Well, the difference is that your parents are still _alive_ and mine are _dead_."

I looked down at my feet. "I know. I'm sorry."

Silence fell between us. Once again, I felt like a helpless, pathetic idiot-a feeling so familiar. I busied myself by searching my bag once again. And within that was my, _our_, nirvana. My hands wrapped around a soggy wad of cash that I had forgotten was in there. "_Money_," I breathed, thanking the heavens.

I ripped it out and counted it. Forty pounds. It may not have been much but in that moment, it was as valuable as a million. But what were we going to do with it? There wasn't a train station around... And we obviously didn't have a car... "We could pay someone to take us back to my village...," I suggested.

"So you're saying we should hitch a ride with some stranger?"

"Says the guy who just spent the night with 'some stranger'!" I said, my voice rising. If we were going to get out of here, he would have to start cooperating a little.

His face turned red again and he looked down. "Fine. I guess we don't have much choice here."

"Exactly my thoughts," I said, stuffing the money back in my bag. "We should head into town, then. Wouldn't want to get caught in another rain storm." I gestured to the dark, cloudy sky.

After sighing loudly, something he was making a habit of, he started making his way towards the general population and I followed. The house we stayed in was out of the way, so it did take a few minutes before we saw the rest of the houses and buildings that made up the village.

My leg ached as we walked. It was a mistake to wait to attend to the damage because when I woke up this morning, my pant leg was stuck to the cut. I almost cried peeling it away from the wound. On top of all of that, it looked like it was getting infected. I needed to get back to my house so I could clean it properly.

"I think that we should walk a ways and then see if we can stop someone leaving town," I proposed. He shrugged in response.

We walked past all the buildings and houses and then some more until finally, I couldn't walk anymore. My shin was screaming at me to stop. "Okay," I said, catching my breath. "That should be enough."

Draco stood beside me, waiting patiently for me to do whatever muggle act he thought I was going to do. I saw a car just down the road so I stuck my thumb out and waited. The car passed by without even acknowledging our existence. "Okay, so, it may take awhile. But what do we have going on?" I said cheerily, trying to make myself feel more hopeful.

But just as these words left my mouth, another car came down the road. This time, I took a more proactive approach. I stepped into the road, sticking my thumb out so I was more visible. As the car advanced towards me, I notice it was swerving slightly. Not exactly a good sign, but I was desperate.

In some miraculous turn of events, the car stopped. I took this opportunity to go to the window. "Hey, me and my friend are looking for a ride. We're willing to pay," I pleaded.

The driver gave me with a curious look, as if he didn't understand what I was saying. "I have money... I'll give it to you if you bring my and my friend to my village. Forty pounds. Please?"

"Um, right, sure. That should be fine."

I smiled so big that my cheeks hurt. My savior. "Thank you so much. You have no idea how bad we needed a ride. C'mon," I said, turning to Draco and motioning to the car. He got up and climbed in the backseat as I climbed in the front, only he had his head down as if he was covering his face.

The driver had ginger hair, cut short. It looked foreign on him though, as if it wasn't his natural color. The buttons on his shirt were mismatched, leaving a gaping hole in between the middle two. As he started to drive off, I understood why he was swerving before. He looked absolutely uncomfortable behind the wheel like he had just started driving recently.

"So, thanks again for the ride."

"Sure, sure," he said, avoiding eye contact. _Geez_, he was weird just like Draco.

I wasn't sure what else to say so I fell silent. I wasn't used to hitchhiking. In fact, I was utterly anxious. And after about half an hour, I was also utterly bored. My eyes grew restless. I was taking in all the details of the car when they happened upon a very familiar stick. I held back a gasp when I realized what it must be.

"Hey, what's that?" I asked, gesturing to it.

He took his eyes off the road, yet not moving out of his stiff position, and his eyes grew wide when he saw what I was asking about. "Oh, nothing. Just a stick that I found..."

I narrowed my eyes in suspicion and saw Draco leaning towards us, showing his face for the first time, to see what I was talking about. His eyes widened as well and he looked into the face of our driver. "Neville?" he said, his voice hysterically surprised.

"Draco?" Neville said, taking his eyes off the road completely. He seemed to forget he was driving for a moment, the car drifting to the side of the road.

"Woah!" I screamed. He yanked it back onto the motorway abruptly, making me hit my elbow on the gear shift. "You two know each other?" But I didn't get an answer. They were too busy talking to each other.

"What are you doing here? With a muggle?" Neville asked. How could he tell? Did muggles have a distinct smell or something?

"What are you doing driving a muggle car?"

"I think you know exactly what I'm doing here. Shouldn't you be somewhere kissing You-Know-Who's ass?" he spat.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Do you think I would be here, _with a_ _muggle_, if I didn't have to be? I've been on the run_ just_ like you, Neville."

"Okay, now I'm offended. Can you two stop talking about me like I'm some disgusting creature?" I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

Neville looked at me apologetically. "Sorry. We've just got...history. What are you doing here with_ him_ anyway?"

"Well," I began. "It's kind of a long story..."


	4. iv revenge

We pulled up to my house after a very, _very_ long drive, or at least, that's the way it felt. There was explaining and talking, but mostly arguing. The air of animosity was strong but was abruptly dissolved when we arrived at my village. The streets were quiet and completely empty, just as they were when we left. The houses around me looked utterly vacant, just as my parent's house did.

But still, I left the two strange and hostile boys in the car while I went to find out my parent's fate. I gripped the cold door knob and took a deep breath before turning it, my heart racing all the while. It opened to reveal the all too familiar walkway that surely had my footsteps ingrained within the tile forever. "Hello?" I called out. The sound waves bounced off the walls and called back to me, signaling that the house was empty. It even smelled as if it hadn't been inhabited for a couple of days.

I began to walk through the house, searching every crevice for some sign of what had happened. But nothing could be found. My parent's bedroom was the worst to search-their scent still clung to the blanket on their bed and the towels on the bathroom floor. It held on tight to the wallpaper and the tacky rug on which I cried.

As sobs racked my body, I could only pray that they weren't dead. That had always been my worst fear-losing them. When I was faced with the reality that they were mortal, back when my dad was first diagnosed with cancer, I fought against it. I convinced myself that they would be with me always. And when my dad went into remission, well, it only confirmed it. But now...

I had to pull myself together. I had to find out what happened to them. And I knew, _oh I knew_, deep in the core of my bones, that it had to do with that wizard _You-Know-Who_ or whatever the hell his name was. And I wasn't going to stop until we found a way to get rid of him. I didn't care that it was 'impossible'. I didn't care that the only savior they had was dead. There was a way, and I would find it.

I wiped the tears off my face hastily with an expression of determination. I pulled myself together like tightening the strings on a corset or knitting a hat: string by string, tear by tear. _First things first_, I told myself, _provisions_. I grabbed a suitcase out of their closet and packed it with my father's clothes. They should fit Draco and Neville-my dad was fairly tall and had lost some weight during chemo.

Then I made my way to my bedroom. It felt foreign and alien, even though I'd only been gone for less than two days. My covers still laid askew across my bed and my pajamas were still on the floor. I stuffed whatever clothes my eyes fell on first into the suitcase along with a few other essentials, including my secret stash of money that I kept under my mattress. I changed my stained shirt and bloody jeans and went into the bathroom.

I lifted my new, clean jeans to inspect the cut. It was swollen around the edges and completely open for any kind of debris or bacteria to get inside. It looked terrible. I cleaned it carefully with alcohol, and though the sting of it was cring-worthy, it wasn't nearly as excruciating as the fresh wound in my heart.

I took one last look at myself after I bandaged it. The shadows under my eyes looked profound on my pale face. I was already inheriting Draco's dark circles. I guess that's what being on the run did to you. The freckles splashed across my nose looked even more prominent than usual from the lack of makeup. My hair hung limply around my shoulders, the bright red washing me out more than ever. It fit me better now. The fiery resolve deep in my body matched it fautlessly.

I went down to the kitchen finally, packing some food in a plastic bag. I found my mum's purse on the counter and took whatever money she had inside and stuffed it in my bag. She would have wanted me to have it. I gave my house one last look, inhaling deeply to remember exactly why I was going to do what I was about to, and then I walked out.

When I got back to the car, it was silent, but the grimaces that I had left them both with were gone. Maybe they had talked it over and put their resentments aside. All I knew was that they were going to have to get along if we wanted to do something to help everyone.

After putting the suitcase in the trunk, I climbed into the passenger seat. "They weren't in there..."

Neville sighed. "Look, I didn't want to say anything until you saw for yourself, but You-Know-Who has been invading muggle villages and towns and cities one at a time for awhile now. He takes the people inside and...he makes them work for wizards-"

"You mean he makes them slaves," I corrected, knowing that's what he meant by his hesitation. "You don't have to be soft with me. Just tell me the truth."

He looked uncomfortable. "Well, yes. Essentially, that's what's happening. None of the muggles realize it because of the charms. I'm really sorry, Layla."

It was silent then. I could feel the pity radiating off of their bodies but I didn't acknowledge it. I didn't want their pity. I wanted revenge. "Well," I began, breaking the silence. "I have to find my parents and he has to be _stopped_."

"But Layla, he's too-"

"No. The man you told me about...Dumbledore...or even Harry Potter for that matter...would they just stand by and let this happen? What did they die for? For nothing?"

Silence again. Neville looked down at the steering wheel, his cheeks were inflamed and I saw a tear escape his duct. Even Draco was looking solemn. I had hit a nerve. "The only reason he isn't being stopped is because nobody thinks he can be. But he can. Everyone can. You don't need to be the Chosen One or a have a special spell, you just need to believe. I know I sound like a Disney movie right now but it's true. We can do this.

"And I know I don't know you and maybe I don't have the right to talk about this but Draco, he killed your parents... And Neville, he killed your Gram. And he stole my parents. So we can't just sit back and let him get away with it. I don't know about you, but I want revenge. And I may be the only muggle on earth who would dare stand up to someone who can do magic, but I'm not going to let fear dictate me. I refuse," I finished. A fire burned in my chest that prevented any tears from falling. The only desire or emotion I allowed inside of me was a burning passion for You-Know-Who's head on a platter.

I waited for them to agree, to throw their hands up in defiance, to tell me their plan to assassinate the ultimate dictator, but instead, I heard the hum of the car as Neville turned the key and the quiet click of Draco's seat belt and I knew that they were with me.

And as we continued down the road in silence, I knew that this would bind us together forever. We were joined by the desire for _revenge_.


	5. v stalking

I squinted at the fuel gauge as it flirted with the empty line. "I hate to throw a wrench in our momentum but we need petrol._ Now_," I explained, breaking Neville's concentration.

"Right. Forgot about that... This muggle thing is so..._taxing_...and time consuming."

Luckily, we were just outside of some town, so the car wouldn't have to be on empty for too long. We had been driving a couple hours with no purpose and absolutely no idea where we were going to go or what we were going to do, despite the determination we drove away from my house with.

I had my hair in a ponytail, which usually triggered the part of my brain that came up with decent ideas, but nothing came. Either I was out of juice or out of my element. Nevertheless, I was irritated. Of all the things that have failed me in the past, my brain wasn't one of them. At least until I met these two wizards...

Neville pulled into the petrol station and parked the car quite crookedly. "I guess I'm going to have to pump," I said with a sigh, climbing out of the car and doing what only muggles could do.

I filled the tank up, thankful for my mum's cash, and walked back to the window. "I'm parched and even though you guys are wizards, I'm pretty sure you get thirsty too," I said, motioning for them to come into the store with me.

They followed, reluctantly on Draco's part. The store was empty aside from the cashier and a boy near the drinks, which is where we were headed. I scanned the shelves for something that looked good and became so absorbed in the task-which happened to me often-that I didn't notice what was going on behind me.

Draco and Neville stood still, their mouths open wide. "What's wrong?" I asked, instantly on guard. I searched for something out of the ordinary but nothing stood out.

Then something happened that I never expected. Neville went up to the boy, Draco following. He had blonde hair, though it clearly wasn't natural since his eyebrows were dark. Nothing about him stood out but there was some recognition in Draco and Neville's faces so maybe he was a wizard.

"Harry?" Neville asked, confusion and awe coating the question.

The boy furrowed his brows. "Excuse me?"

"Harry... Is that you?" Neville asked again.

"My name is Thomas...," he explained, scratching his head. In the process, he'd moved his bangs slightly, revealing a particularly funny shaped scar underneath.

"You've even got the scar! You're Harry! Why are you lying to us?" Draco accused, his voice rising.

I moved closer to the confrontation. The boy, who claimed to be Thomas, was looking less confused and more annoyed by the second. I decided to intervene. "I'm sorry. My friends are tired and apparently delusional. We've been driving all day, you see. Again, I'm really sorry. C'mon guys," I said, narrowing my eyes at them once I knew the boy couldn't see me. I took their drinks and headed to the checkout, paying for them and immediately stalking out of the store with two confused wizards behind me.

"Well, so much for being inconspicuous! Clearly the muggle world is making you two crazy!" I said once we got to the car.

"That was Harry. There is no way that it wasn't! He even had the lightening bolt scar on his forehead. The only things missing are his black hair and glasses," Neville said.

Draco nodded in agreement and crossed his arms over his chest. "He _has_ to be lying."

"But, why would he do that? From what I've heard, he doesn't seem like that type of guy. And you all saw him die! I don't understand how this could even be possible," I said, though I hushed my voice at the end after seeing the boy leave the store. He gave us a look of suspicion but continued walking straight down the road.

"Harry was one of my best friends. I'd know him if I seen him and I _just_ saw him. Though he didn't seem to recognize me..." Neville's voice was laced with hurt. It struck a chord in me.

"Okay, fine... I believe you."

"Well, what should we do?"

I thought for a moment. "Follow him," I suggested. "That way we can see what he's doing here or if he's hiding something." Not to mention the fact that it would benefit us immensely to have the only person who could stop You-Know-Who with us.

So, abandoning our car on a road nearby, we followed Harry on foot, managing to stay at least a street behind him the entire time. The roads were smooth until he turned onto a rocky, beaten path. There were dozens of slanted trees that created a natural archway with their branches and leaves while unkempt underbrush scratched the bare skin of my arm and poked me in my wounded leg. It was difficult to be quiet and stealthy in these kind of conditions, but still, Harry didn't notice us.

We made it to the end of the path undetected, though someone-Neville or Draco, I couldn't tell-kept stepping on twigs and snapping them noisily. The path opened up to a small clearing in which a small house sat. It looked as if the structure had occurred in nature by chance-not as if it was built by human hands. It just looked like it couldn't belong anywhere else. The wooden walls and the classic chimney perfectly complimented the emerald vines that winded and crawled up the sides of the house. _This_ is exactly where I would picture a wizard living.

I watched Harry walk into the house without knocking or signaling his arrival so I assumed it was where he lived... Immediately, an abnormally huge shadow passed in front of one of the windows.

"_Hagrid_," I heard Neville breath.

"He's living with _Hagrid_?" Draco said within the same beat.

"_That was a person_?" I questioned.

"Half-giant," Neville explained.

My head spun. I had just gotten used to the idea of magic, now I was faced with the fact that giants were real too? "Is there anything else I should know about?" I whispered, but I didn't get answered because Neville was charging the house.

I mentally chastised him but followed when I realized that Draco had gone too, leaving me alone in the pathway. Since we had apparently decided against being quiet, I let the twigs crunch beneath my feet on the way without feeling too guilty.

Neville pounded on the door with his fist continually, sending a banging noise throughout the area, until the door opened. Harry was almost punched when he opened it abruptly. And once he had gotten a look at who his visitors were, he slammed it shut again.

"I _know_ it's you in there Harry! Why are you lying to us?" he screamed at the door, clearly frustrated at this turn of events. I could only imagine how it would feel to have one of your best friends, someone who you'd know most of your life, pretend like he didn't even know who you were. The pain I tried to imagine was etched in his features.

Draco stood with his hands in his pockets, kicking a rock across the ground. His face was a mask-completely void of emotion other than slight annoyance. I knew he felt something. I remembered when he told me that Harry saved his life the night that he died-or _didn't_ die-and looked as if he could cry. I knew he cared-he wouldn't show it.

"We saw Hagrid!" Neville continued. "If you decided to give up on the entire wizarding population, you could have just told us instead of pretending to die! Do you have any idea what's been going on? My Grams is dead! Draco's parents are dead! Layla's parents have been-" The door opened abruptly, revealing the largest, and hairiest, man I have ever laid my eyes on. He had to bend down just to show us his face.

"Alright, alright, Neville. You can stop tha' now. No reason to 'arm the wood. Come in, come in, all of yehs," he said, stepping out of the way.

Neville went straight in, his head held up in a sort of bravado facade. Draco went in afterwards, still staring at his feet. I was scared, which made me feel like a child, but he was just so _big_ and..._foreign_. But if I was going to get my parents back, I was going to have to do things that scared me. And this seemed like a good introduction to conquering my fears.

I stepped across the threshold into a room that was bigger than I could have imagined. The ceilings were high enough to accommodate Hagrid's size and then some. The width was much smaller, though still big enough to fit one Hagrid, plus us and Harry, and maybe a few more. There was a mattress on the floor that could fit at least six people comfortably and a couch with a blanket strewn across it, a pillow on one side. Anyone could tell what the sleeping arrangements were after just one look.

I heard a growl and jumped, reaching into my bag and wrapping my hands around the gun I carried, before meeting the eyes of a dog. Instantly, my face grew hot from embarrassment. "There, there Fang. Jus' another wizard," Hagrid assured the dog.

"Actually, I'm not-" I was cut off by Harry.

"Wizard? What do you mean wizard? Who are these people?" His face looked troubled and confused.

Hagrid sighed and sat down on the lone chair. "I didn' wanna tell yeh this... Mind you, I was jus' tryin' ter protect yeh, but yer name isn't Thomas. It's Harry. We...we though' yeh died. Then You-Know-Who won an' yeh woke up. So we needed to protect yeh. Professor McGonagall took yer memories, Harry. Yer a wizard."


	6. vi thestrals

Now that I was closer to Harry, I could see that his dye job was badly done. There were patches of black scattered throughout the blonde. I tried to imagine Hagrid standing above him with a pungent smelling squirt bottle, kneading the dye through Harry's hair with his fingertips, but I couldn't.

Harry's hands were balled up at the sides of his face and his eyes were squeezed shut. His breathing was ragged and he was slowly turning red. "Yeh havta understan', Harry. There's on'y so much one person can take. After yeh woke up and found out what happened, yeh'd gone mad. Yeh reached yer breaking point. Yeh were screamin' and sayin' it was all yer fault an' I knew that if I didn' do somethin', yeh would go back and get yerself killed again. So I begged McGonagall, _oh I begged_, and normally she might not o' done it, but we'd just lost so many that we loved an' we were all grievin'... Everyone around us had given up an' they were fleein' an' going into hidin'... An', an' we couldn't lose you too. So, she did it. And I brought yeh here... An' I hoped we could stay here forever-"

"But you couldn't stay here forever, Hagrid. The Death Eaters are taking the muggles one by one. They're going to find you if you stay here," Neville explained.

"Well, if I would've known what was going to happen...maybe I wouldn'-"

"_How could you not have known_?" Neville yelled, standing up.

Hagrid looked taken aback, and I'm sure the rest of us did too. "I'm sorry, Neville, but I didn'-"

"No, you did. And you still did it. My gran-"

"_He_ didn't kill your gran, Neville," Draco interrupted, not looking up from his feet.

Now both Hagrid _and_ Neville looked taken aback. Apparently what he had said was completely out of character. I didn't know who Draco was before his parents died but it seemed as if the event altered him completely.

Slowly, he noticed the lack of movement and conversation and looked up. "What?" After realizing that they were stunned by what he said, he spoke again. "We just need to remember who the enemy is, Neville. And it's not Hagrid." He turned his gaze back down, though they continued gaping at him.

It was quiet still for a long while, but this time Harry broke the silence. "How could you have lied to me all this time? How could you take my memories?" he said through gritted teeth. He breathed as if he was trying to calm himself down, but he only got angrier. The skin over his knuckles turned white just as everything in the room started to shake. The two lightbulbs that lit the house exploded, glass scattering across the floor.

I found myself becoming frightened. Magic was scary all by itself-the unknown was enough to make me uneasy-but this was different. This was the absence of control. He didn't even have a wand... And from the surprised look on his face, he didn't know he was even capable of doing that.

"I'm sorry, Harry-"

"_Are you_?" he breathed.

"Harry-" Hagrid was cut off by the sound of the window breaking. I assumed it was just out of control magic again but no, the glass fracture was accompanied by another beam of light that hit Hagrid dead-on. "Blimey," he said, getting up and looking out the window. "Death Eaters."

Neville and Draco armed themselves with wands while I pulled out my gun, which I had my hand on the entire visit. The door was blown open and three cloaked Death Eaters barged through the door. I immediately recognized one of them from my first encounter with magic.

"_You_," he said, apparently recognizing me as well. I saw no visible signs of the gun shot wound that he surely had. Of course, he could have been healed by magic-if that was possible.

I could pay no mind to the fighting that I could see through my peripheral vision, as the stalky Death Eater currently had his wand pointed at me. On instinct, I pointed my gun at him and pulled the trigger, only to hear a slight pop instead of the deafening roar of a bullet passing through the chamber. No bullets. _Oh God_.

I stared after my personal assassin with wide eyes. He gave me a smirk before saying, "Avada Ked-"

"Stupefy!" I felt someone push me out of the way and before I knew it, the Death Eaters had been knocked backwards into the wall. I felt a gasp escape my lips as the seriousness of the situation sunk in.

When I looked to see who I'd be thanking, it was Draco. For the second time in three days, he'd saved me from what could have been sudden death. I owed him more than I would've liked to owe anyone.

The room had fallen quiet, except for the sounds of heavy breathing. The three Death Eaters lay on the ground unconscious, Neville and Hagrid stood, recovering, and Harry was huddled behind the couch. "Thanks," I finally said to Draco. "I guess I forgot to reload the gun..." I wasn't usually so forgetful...

He didn't reply. "There could be more coming," he said instead.

"You go. Buckbeak is in the back 'long with a couple o' Thestrals. There's also a pack with a tent an' some food tha' I keep fer emergencies. Take those. I have ter get Gwap," Hagrid said, though most of the information went right over my head. "An' Harry, I really am sorry. If yeh find McGonagall, she'll give yer memories back-I'm sure of it."

"Do you know where she is?" Neville asked when Harry didn't acknowledge the apology.

"No... She did say tha' she wouldn' be too far away from Hogwarts though. Yeh might oughta check 'round there. But be careful."

"Thanks, Hagrid. Good luck," Neville said, and we all followed him out of the back door. Sure enough, there was an insanely large bird-type creature and two skeletal horses with wings. Neither looked like something I would ride willingly or even go near under normal circumstances.

"How did you not know you were a wizard with these in your backyard?" Neville asked Harry.

"He told me they were exotic animals," he admitted.

"Do you still know how to ride Buckbeak? I was there when you rode him the first time, you know. Back in year three. Do you really not remember that?"

Harry shook his head. "No. And yes, I do know how to ride him. Although now I feel stupid that I thought he was a normal animal..." He approached the bird and bowed low. The creature surprisingly returned the gesture.

"So, uh, who am I riding that with?" I questioned. Neville and Draco both looked at me.

"You can see them?" Draco asked.

"...Yes? Should I not be able to?"

Neville mounted his Thestral while Draco continued. "It's just...you have to witness a death before you can see them. So, I, uh, guess you have."

"Well, I was in the hospital room when my grandmother died. So, yeah, I guess I have."

Draco then looked from the Thestral to me interchangeably, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "I suppose you'll have to ride with me."

"Okay."

Draco got on first, and then it was my turn. In my feverish haste to get it done quickly, in case more Death Eaters were coming, I almost knocked Draco off. When I finally climbed on and balanced myself, it's bones dug into my flesh. I wondered how long we could ride them before it got too uncomfortable or painful to carry on.

Neville took off first. Thankfully, it was getting dark so if we flew high enough, we wouldn't be seen-at least not clearly. We followed and Harry brought up the back. They didn't look it but the Thestrals flew faster than I could have imagined. I held on tight to Draco's torso and tried to take in my surroundings, which was difficult due to the amount of wind blowing straight into my eyes.

The trees looked like a bed of emeralds from beneath us-beautiful but not something you'd want to fall into. I tightened my grip. "My parents would roll over in their graves if they saw me right now. I mean, if they had graves...," Draco yelled over the deafening wind, trailing off at the end. "They hated muggles..."

I closed my eyes once they started burning, salty tears sliding down my cheek. I didn't dare try and wipe them. "Do you?"

He was silent then, only the constant stream of air was present to keep my eardrums company. "I don't know. I haven't really had the chance to decide what my _own_ opinion on that is," he said finally.

I didn't know exactly what that meant but his tone was rather grim. "Well, at least you're honest," I said, slightly wounded.

He looked as if he were about to turn around, but then he thought better of it. "I didn't say I hated you. I just said I didn't know if I hated muggles."

"So you don't _know_ if you hate me?"

Though the wind was terrible, I could feel, rather than hear, him sigh since my arms were up against his rib cage. "No, that's not what I said. You have to understand that I'm not good at...being _nice_. I don't know how."

I started to laugh but when I realized it was throwing my balance off, I stopped. "Well, you haven't exactly been mean. So you're taking a step in the right direct-" A scream escaped my mouth as the Thestral plunged into a deep dive towards the ground.

Before my life had time to flash before my eyes, though, we touched ground-much more softly than I'd imagined. I was stiff from the ride so it was hard to pull my arms out from around Draco's torso and it was even harder to get off the Thestral itself.

Immediately after stretching my legs, I loaded my gun. I couldn't believe I had forgotten before, but nobody would catch me with an empty cylinder again. Neville started pulling things out of the pack just as Harry and Buckbeak touched the ground.

When everyone was off their form of transportation and settled in, Neville looked up at us all. "Okay, we need a plan."


	7. vii hogsmeade

Neville had gotten the tent set up while I made a fire. It was getting quite cold out so we all sat around it. "So, uh, we haven't really been introduce. Actually, you haven't_ technically_ been introduce to any of us. I'm Layla, and this is Draco and Neville. I didn't know you before-well, you know," I said, pushing a piece of hair behind my ear.

"Well, nice to meet you, I guess, though it would probably better under different circumstances. So, uh, how did I know you?" he asked, gesturing to Neville. He seemed to be less sulky since we landed, fortunately.

Neville looked down. The fire reflected in his eyes, making them glow intensely. "We were friends. Really good friends, actually. We were both in the same house, Gryffindor, though you probably don't know what that means now. And we were in the DA together... Shame you don't remember that stuff."

Harry was looked down at his hands. "Yeah, shame." He looked back up, this time at Draco. "And how did I know you?"

Neville snorted from where he was seated. "Well...it's-it's complicated. We weren't exactly friends," Draco said. I wondered what their relationship was like when Harry was_ Harry_.

"Yeah, you could say that._ Or_ you could say that you two hated each other. That would probably be more accurate," Neville said, laughing.

"Yeah, well, I guess it would. We were kind of...enemies. But a lot has changed since then. I mean, Neville and I hated each other too. And I would have never even spoke to a muggle," he said, gesturing to me.

"Okay, I'm really starting to resent the term muggle. Can you please refer to me as Layla? Thanks," I said, crossing my arms over my chest. I wasn't a _muggle_, I was a _person_. "Besides, we should be discussing plans! Not past times."

"Right, well, obviously we need to get Harry's memories back first. But where do we find McGonagall?" Neville wondered, grabbing a stick off the ground and throwing into the fire.

I didn't know who McGonagall was or anything about her but I did remember one thing. "Well...Hagrid said that she wouldn't be far from Hogwarts. Maybe we should go there?" I suggested, though I had no idea where or what Hogwarts even was.

"I don't think that would be a good idea. She wouldn't be _at_ Hogwarts anyway... But maybe Hogsmeade...," Draco said, more to himself.

"We can't go to Hogsmeade. We would be recognized, I'm sure of it. It's just way too risky-" Neville began.

"But _she_ wouldn't be recognized," Draco interrupted, gesturing to me.

My eyes widened as I turned to him. "_Me?_ I can't-I don't even know what that is! You can't expect me to-"

"You want revenge, right? Well, Harry's memories could be the key to that. He's stopped You-Know-Who before and I'm sure he can do it again. But we need your help... It's up to you, obviously, but I was under the impression that you wanted your parents back."

He knew exactly what buttons to press, didn't he? I sighed in annoyance. They can sit there and call me a muggle all day but when they needed something... "Fine. Of course I'll do it. I just don't know if I can... I might ruin everything. What if they figure out I'm a muggle?"

"They won't. You won't be there long enough for anyone to notice. All you have to do is get in there, look for Professor McGonagall, and get out. It'll be easy."

Even though his face and his tone said that he was telling the truth, how could he know that? For all we knew, You-Know-Who himself was at Hogsmeade and_ I_ would be the one to pay for our monumental mistake. But what choice did we have?

The next day, we ended up at a cave in the middle of nowhere, but according to Neville and Draco, it was right outside of Hogsmeade. Harry sat quietly in a corner, probably nervous about what was about to come, while Neville and Draco sat discussing what was going to be done.

Instead of hanging around Neville and Draco, which would only cause me to be even more high-strung than I already was, I opted for a spot next to Harry-whom I hardly knew. "So, uh, ready to become Harry Potter again?" I asked, sitting on the hard ground. I picked up a large feather that appeared to belong to Buckbeak, though he, along with the Thestrals, hadn't made it into the cave before Neville told them to go back to Hagrid. He had said that we wouldn't need them because we could apparate from Hogsmeade, as there were so many wizards using magic here that it would go unnoticed.

"I guess... I mean, I don't know. I don't really know anything about who I am. What if I'm better off being Thomas? What if Harry is a real tosser?" he said and I laughed even though he didn't.

"Well, from what I've heard, you're a pretty good guy-like, the best. I'm sure you'll like what you find. _Or _remember."

"Yeah... I hope so." He looked down, tracing the cave floor with his index finger.

At that point, Neville and Draco had stopped talking and walked towards us. "So, we've figured out what you'll do," Neville began. "We'll give you one of our wands, just in case they get suspicious, you can pull it out and show 'em that you're a wizard. Just go straight into the village and look, and I mean _everywhere_, for a silver tabby cat with square markings around it's eyes."

I furrowed my brows. "I'm looking for a cat?"

"Yes, and if you find it, go up and ask-quietly, of course-if she's Professor McGonagall, okay?"

I held my hands up. "Wait a second, are you telling me that your old professor is a cat?"

They both nodded. "She's an animagus. She can turn into a cat."

I let out a whoosh of air. "Well, God, what are you going to tell me next? Is there also some kind of monster near here that I should watch out for?" I asked jokingly.

"Well, there used to be a Basilisk that lived in Hogwarts but Harry killed that during our second year."

I stared after him with wide eyes. "Right. Of course he did." I took another breather, just to go over what I was supposed to do in my head. "Alright, well, let's get this over with."

Draco handed me his wand somewhat reluctantly, though I could vaguely understand his hesitation. From what I understood, wizards were essentially muggles without their wands-not that that was a _bad_ thing, of course. "Thanks," I murmured.

"Well, uh, good luck," Harry said from his corner. The others merely nodded to me and I nodded back, setting off on the rugged trail that supposedly led to the village of Hogsmeade.

I hoped that I would be able to see it because, if not, this trip would have been a waste. There was some debate over whether or not I could even go, with the charms around it, but it was determined that even though I'm a muggle, I should be able to see it because I know that it's there. And I was crossing my fingers that they were right.

I walked and walked for over half an hour along a winding, stony path and was beginning to lose hope when I came to a stile, which I quickly climbed over. I turned a corner and sure enough, I began to seen the beginnings of cottages and gardens. Civilization. I could also see a magnificent castle in the distance.

You'd think this would have made me feel relieved. The trip wasn't a waste after all and I might be able to get Harry's memories back, but instead, I felt my heart stammer against my chest and my breathing accelerate. I was walking into the unknown and that scared me more than I could describe.

Soon, cottages turned into buildings and my guard went up. I searched the nooks and crevices of the buildings outside, looking in alleyways and behind homes. None of the shop names that I read made any sense: Dogweed and Deathcap, Honeydukes, The Hog's Head, Spintwitches-all so foreign and intimidating. Still, there was no sign of any cat, much less a silver tabby one with square markings.

I had given up, completely and utterly. Slumped in defeat, I rounded a corner that seemed to lead onto another beaten path. A building stood in the distance, worn and unstable.

I sat for a moment to collect myself, preparing to head back to the cave with bad news, when a peculiar and dreadful feeling washed over me. Every bad memory I'd ever had resurfaced. My grandmother dying, my dad getting cancer, all the hospital waiting rooms and never-ending chemotherapy treatments. Every goose-bump in my skin rose to the surface and my flesh tingled with a chill that swept over me like a tidal wave. I thought for sure I was going to die. There was no way a person could live with this feeling.

"Expecto Patronum," I heard from my right. A white, glowing light of pure joy and happiness reached me, warming my freezing skin and chasing away the bad feelings that had overcome me. I closed my eyes, basking in the incredible feeling and then it vanished. I was felt normal again.

I looked up to find a severe-looking woman with jet black hair, stuck inside a tight bun, and square glasses staring down at me. "May I ask what a muggle like yourself is doing all the way in Hogsmeade...? With a wand, no less?"

That was it. I was done for. I was going to be turned in to You-Know-Who and be killed. That feeling earlier must have been a premonition. "I-I-I don't know, I just-"

"Now, now, dear girl, I'm not going to hurt you. You shouldn't be here though. Especially now. It's too dangerous for your kind."

An idea crossed my head, and I figured I ought to spit it out before I could talk myself out of it. "Are-are you Professor McGonagall?" I stammered, not meeting her eyes.

Her brows furrowed. "Yes, who's asking?"

"I'm Layla Wright... I was sent here to find you... I-I have," my voice lowered to a whisper, "Harry Potter with me and he wants his memories back."

Her hands found her temple which she rubbed softly, closing her eyes. "Oh, he's found out, has he? That poor boy. After he'd left, I couldn't believe I'd done it... But he was just so-so...damaged. Alright Miss-Wright, was it? Take me to him."

"Okay," I began, grabbing the wand off the ground. When I turned back around though, I found myself talking to a cat instead of a person. "Oh...that's what they meant," I mumbled.

The walk back seemed to take less time, with the cat-Professor McGonagall-trailing behind me. And soon enough, I was met by three sets of eager eyes. "I found her," I said smugly.

Professor McGonagall, the human, was suddenly walking in front of me. "Mr. Longbottom," she nodded to him. She then looked at Draco with surprise, as if she wasn't seeing clearly. "Mr. Malfoy? I surely wasn't expecting to see you here...

"Ah, Mr. Potter. Are you ready to get your memories back?"


	8. viii grimmauld place

Draco, Neville, and I stood at the opening of the cave while McGonagall was preforming the spell on Harry in the back. "Do you think it'll work?" I said after listening to her quiet murmurs for a few minutes.

"Oh yeah. McGonagall knows what she's doing," Neville said, pushing his dyed ginger hair out of his face. "Where do you suppose we'll go after this?"

Draco shrugged. "Maybe Harry'll have an idea."

It was quiet again and I noticed that the murmuring had stopped altogether.I turned around and saw Harry standing there, blinking rapidly. McGonagall said something to him and he nodded. She turned around. "Alright, you four need to get out of here as soon as possible. It may be easier to do magic in Hogsmeade but that was an unsual spell. They might come here. Good luck to you all," she said, nodding to us and Harry before walking out of the cave. All I saw was an inch of a cat's tail as she fled.

"Harry? Is that you?" Neville asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, Neville. Listen, is Yaxley dead?" he asked, an urgency and determination surfacing in his tone.

"What? Why?"

"Is he dead, Neville? I'll explain later."

"Yeah, he's dead," Draco answered first.

"Alright, grab hold everybody. We're going to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place," he said, sticking his arm out and enuciating every word as if it were _very_ important that we knew the exact address. We all grabbed it without missing a beat. Again, I was sucked through that too-tight tube. This time, the sensation was less overwhelming but it still made me nauseous. I was glad when it was over.

We stood in a damp hallway. Old-fashioned gas lanterns hung on the wall, casting a dim ominous light over it. There were old portraits hanging on the wall and I could hear banging going on within the house. "Someone's here," Harry said, reaching for his wand before remembering that he didn't have one. He motioned for Neville and Draco to take out their's. "Stay back, Layla," he said to me, pushing me behind him.

I didn't know why we didn't just use the invisible tube to leave again. Why were we walking into a situation that could be potentially dangerous if we didn't have to? But still, I followed them further into the hallway. There were footsteps easing in from the opposite direction that seemed to be mimicking our own. "Who's there?" Harry called out.

"You_ first_," a voice yelled.

But Harry didn't reveal our identities. Instead, he took us further into the house. The floorboards creaked so they had to know we were coming. Finally, we came to the bottom of a staircase but one glance to the top and we realized there were many more wizards here than we could handle. "Harry?" I heard someone cry-I mean, _really_ cry.

Everyone raced down the stairs and enveloped Harry. They seemed to know him and nobody seemed hostile so my heart lessened it's pace. "Who are they?" I whispered to Draco who was closest to me.

But before he could answer me, a boy with red hair stepped away from the pack and pointed his wand at Draco. His face was in a scowl. "_Malfoy_," he said through gritted teeth. I swore he was about to do something rash before Harry made him lower his wand.

"It's okay, Ron. Him and Neville are the ones who found me, along with this muggle. They're the ones who found McGonagall so I could get my memories back," he explained. Ron looked distressed.

"Your memories? Well, why were they gone in the first place? Did he take them?" he said, gesturing to Draco. "And _how_ is it that you're alive?"

"I was just about to ask the same thing," a girl with bushy hair said, her arms over her chest.

Harry sighed. Neville was greeting everyone while Draco and I standed awkwardly in the back. "And why've you got a muggle with you?" one of the others said. My cheeks heated up.

"Oh, what does it matter? He's alive! He's alive!" the older ginger woman said. She wrapped her arms around him again. "You hungry, dear? Everyone stop crowding the boy. He looks famished. You can tell us all about it after you eat. All of you," she said, gesturing to us, though she did give Draco a sour look. I felt bad for him.

An hour later, after I'd learned that the woman was Mrs. Weasley, we were fed and sitting in the dark and gloomy living room. It was filled to the brim with wizards-all of whom remained nameless to me. Draco and I sat in the back on the floor, away from everyone else. He obviously had a rocky past with these people and I had never even met any of them. We were both the outcasts.

Harry was telling them all what had happened to him. "And then we went to Hogsmeade. Layla went in _by herself_ and found Professor McGonagall. Then I got back my memories..."

Throughout the entire story, I had been getting strange looks from all around. Neville had told them about how Draco and I found him, and everything we did before running into Harry. But the strange looks I was getting were nothing compared to the one's shot in Draco's direction-each one more surprised and shocked than the last. People really couldn't believe the way he was acting. And I couldn't believe that he was so bad before that people were actually staggered that he was acting decent.

"You must've been a real piece work before this...," I whispered just loud enough for Draco to hear.

"You could say that," he replied quietly.

"Oh, by the way Layla, this is Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, Ron, Hermione, Charlie, Bill, Fleur, Ginny, Percy, George and Fr-" Harry said, cutting himself off abruptly. The atmosphere of the room changed immediately, going from happy to upset in just a few seconds. Mrs. Weasley started to cry and Mr. Weasley rubbed her back and teared up himself. The one called George was looking misty and he excused himself from the room.

Whatever it was that they were sad about, I felt it. A deep sense of sorrow welled up in my chest-their mourning was contagious. "What _happened_?" I whispered just as Ron got up to comfort his mother.

He leaned over close to my ear-so close that he was almost touching it. "Fred, George's twin, died in the Battle of Hogwarts six months ago," he explained, his hot breath running down my ear canal.

"_Oh_," I breathed, my heart sinking. They had lost one of their own-a brother, a twin, _a son_. I got up then, compelled to offer my condolences even though I didn't know them or Fred. It was just something I felt in my heart.

I approached her and she didn't notice me until I grabbed her hand. "I am so sorry for your loss," I said quietly. She smiled up at me, sniffling and blotting tears off her face, though others were quickly taking their place.

"Thank you, dear," she managed to croak out. She squeezed my hand hard before releasing me. I turned to walk back to Draco but was instead intercepted by Hermione.

"Hi, Layla, is it? I suppose you'll be staying here then?" she asked.

"Um, yeah, I guess so. I don't really have anywhere else to stay-"

"Of course, of course. We have one extra bed in Ginny and I's room. If you'd like, you can stay with us. Unless you'd feel more comfortable on the couch down here but, I warn you, the house elf really hates muggles-I mean, he's gotten better but he's still-"

"Sure. Especially since I have absolutely no idea what a house elf is and I haven't slept in a bed for a few days..."

Hermione laughed-though it seemed a bit forced due to the incident that just took place. "Come on. It's just upstairs," she said, leading me through the living room and to the stairs that they were on when we first arrived.


	9. ix changes

I took the stairs one at a time, hesitating ever so often to oggle at the creepy non-human heads on the wall. They couldn't be real... "So, this is our bedroom," Hermione said while she turned the door knob. It was shaped like the head of a serpent.

The room was dark and dreary, much like the rest of the house. Grimmauld Place was starting to look more and more like Grim-Old-Place instead. There were three beds pushed up against one wall, side by side by side. "This one is yours," she said, gesturing towards the bed in the middle.

I sat down on it gratefully and the rusty springs within groaned in response. "Well, this is cozy..." Hermione sat down on her own bed to the left of me while I took the opportunity to change my bandages.

I lifted my jeans up and ripped off the bandage and adhesive in one motion. Wincing, I surveyed the wound carefully. It was an angry red, swollen and oozing. It drained a yellow substance that made my stomach churn. There were red streaks surrounding it that signaled the infection had spread to my other body systems-possibly even my blood. I touched it gently and fever was absorbed through my fingertips.

"Ouch. Here, let me fix that," Hermione said, walking up to me and taking her wand out.

"Woah, wait. I thought they were tracking the magic use," I said with my hands up, not prepared for another Death Eater attack.

Hermione laughed. "This house is under a Fidelius Charm. That means that this house, and all that happens within, can't be tracked or monitored by external sources. Someone would have to be told where this house was by one of the designated secret keepers in order to infiltrate. We're safe," she explained, approaching me and asking for permission with her eyes.

I nodded. She grasped my leg and pointed her wand at the wound, mumbling some words that sounded Latin, and a tingling feeling ran through my calf. After only a couple seconds, the gash started to dissolve, leaving clean, new and slightly pink skin in it's wake. My mouth fell open.

"Woah, that was bloody amazing," I breathed. It was the first time I had seen magic used in a casual setting and had the time to fully absorb the experience.

"That's Hermione. She's the best with that kind of stuff," Ginny said as she came through the door, collapsing on her bed with a sigh.

"Where's Harry?" Hermione asked as she walked back to her own mattress.

"Taking a shower." I sighed as I thought about how great it would be to take a shower again-to finally feel warm and safe and normal-

"So, Layla, right?" Ginny began. "It must have been hell to be a _muggle_ and have to travel with Malfoy, huh?"

I furrowed my brows. "Not really. He's actually been quite nice to me," I paused. "What was he like...before, I mean?"

"A git-" Ginny began before Hermione interrupted.

"He was egotistical and arrogant, to be completely honest. He was prejudice against every wizard who didn't come from a pureblood family. And even those who did come from a pureblood family but didn't partake in the same prejudices that his family did-like the Weasleys. And worst of all...he was a Death Eater."

My mouth fell open again. "What? He was one of_ them?_ But-"

"Well, I believe that was mostly because Voldemort was trying to punish Draco's father..."

"Wait, is Voldemort the same person as You-Know-Who?"

"_If_ you can call him a person," Ginny said with a cynical laugh.

"Anyway, he was assigned to kill Dumbledore who was the headmaster at our school," Hermione said, though once she noticed my horrified expression she quickly continued. "He didn't _do_ it but...he was supposed to."

Just then, Mrs. Weasley poked her head through the door. "Layla, dear, the shower is open. I know you must be waiting." Her face was blotchy and red as if she'd just stopped crying not too long ago.

"Uh, yeah, thanks," I mumbled, getting up to follow her.

"There is a bath on this floor but the best shower is on up on the second floor, second door down," she explained with a weak smile, the skin by her eyes crinkling. "It's just up there." She motioned farther up the staircase.

I gave her a smile before setting off to my destination. Goosebumps raised on my skin as if my pores were excited to be clean once more. I couldn't wait to feel hot water pour onto my flesh...to feel clean-

"So, do you trust him?" I heard someone say from inside one of the rooms on the second floor. I couldn't tell who it was-everyone was so new.

There was a pause. "I wouldn't say I trusted him...no, but I can tell that he's different from before. That's obvious. I guess he's in the same boat as me now. Voldemort killed his parents too. That's not something you can overlook," Harry said. I knew they were talking about Draco so I halted my steps and listened.

"I couldn't believe he was sitting with a_ muggle_. And talking to her... And being nice... Are you sure it's not just an act? That he's not spying on us for You-Know-Who?"

"Well, Ron, he was with Layla before they even found Neville. He was in an antique store in a random muggle village. I'm pretty sure Voldemort doesn't care about what a muggle girl is doing. And Death Eaters wouldn't have been attacking him... No, Voldemort killed his family because they defied him at the Battle of Hogwarts and Draco got away..." I heard some floor boards shift so I crossed the space between me and the bathroom quickly.

I bolted the door behind me, my head reeling. As I let the hot water hit my body and the steam fill my lungs, I couldn't help but wonder about Draco's transformation. It seemed strange that someone could change so completely so quickly. _Was_ he faking it?

When my dad got cancer, it did change me, I suppose. I became more thankful for the time I had with him and mum. It made me realize that everyone was mortal...that I shouldn't take anything for granted... After they were taken by You-Know-Who, I felt a sense of determination...a resolve that I've never been struck with before.

I guess I have changed. I'm more strong now than ever before. So why couldn't Draco become a better person? Why couldn't he come to the realization that what he believed and stood for was completely and utterly wrong? And why is it so hard to believe that he would want to be on the side that would help him avenge his family?

No, Draco had definitely changed. I may not have known him before but I know him now. And I trust my gut. And no matter what anybody else thinks, I know that he's not spying for anyone. And that he just wants to feel a part of something that's _good_ for once.

Because everyone deserves a second chance. And anyone can change.


	10. x mad

After my shower, Mrs. Weasley had already cooked again. But, much to my surprise, I was hungry again. I went down to the kitchen with damp hair and a pair of Hermione's clothes which were a size too small, and clung to me in an unflattering manner. As I sat down in the first open seat that I saw, I noticed Draco's absence.

"He thinks he's too good for us," my neighbor said. I turned to find the one called George staring right at me, seemingly reading my mind.

"I don't really think that's it," I said, quick to defend the boy who'd saved my life twice already. "He's just...uncomfortable."

George gave a cynical laugh. "Uncomfortable, is he? And how should we go about making him more comfortable? Should we all draw Dark Marks on our arms to make him feel at home?"

Immediately I was taken aback. I wasn't expecting such a strong reaction from someone who was essentially a stranger to me. "He isn't like that anymore...," I mumbled.

"And who are you to make that call? You didn't know him before," he said darkly. I noticed there were bags under his eyes and his mouth was pulled down in a permanent frown.

"He hates Voldemort just as much as you do."

"No. _He doesn't._" He got up, pushed in his chair, and walked out of the kitchen in a haste.

My face felt hot. How could I have pissed him off _that_ much with only a few words? I glanced at the rest of the table. Our confrontation had gone unnoticed, or at least ignored, by everyone else, who were absorbed in their own conversations. I crossed my arms over my chest.

That's when I remembered. He lost his_ twin_ in the war. Because of Voldemort. Because of Death Eaters. And Draco was a Death Eater.

I got up out of my seat and went in search of him. I wasn't one of those people who could hurt someone's feelings, intentionally or otherwise, and not apologize. It ate away at me like acid slowly wasting away a scrap of metal.

I checked all the rooms on the first and second floor, including the one that I heard Harry and Ron speaking in earlier and he wasn't in any of them. I went further up the stairs to the third floor, where I had never been. It was in the first room that I found him, sitting on the edge of a bed, slumped over in silence. For the first time, I was getting a view of the right side of his face and I noticed one of his ears looked to be missing.

"George?" I said gently, knocking once on the open door. He didn't answer, but seeing as he also didn't tell me to leave him alone, I took that as an invitation to cross the threshold.

"Look, I'm really sorry about what just happened... I honestly didn't mean to bring anything up or make you upset or anything... I just-" I was interrupted by his sighing. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his left hand before getting up with a small smile, though it looked a bit forced.

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have acted like that." He paused. "I didn't used to be this way. I was nice, I swear..."

"No, no. I believe you. But I shouldn't have pressed the Draco thing. So, I really am sorry," I said, wondering whether or not I should bring up his brother. In the end, my conscience won out. "And...I'm _really_ sorry about your brother. I know I didn't know him or anything but..."

"You would've liked him. Everyone did."

"I'm sure he was great," I said, gripping the strap of my bag that was still slung across my chest.

"What's in that bag?" he asked, changing the subject. "I haven't seen you without it."

"Well..." I opened it up and took out the pistol, being careful not to point it at anything that looked valuable-though, upon further inspection, nothing looked especially special. There were mostly empty packages and things that looked like toys everywhere. And only one of the two beds looked messy. He stayed here alone.

"Wow, is that a muggle gun?" he asked, holding out his hand to see it.

I placed it in his hand. "Yeah, when Draco came into the shop I worked in, it was the first thing I saw that I could defend myself with once the Death Eaters came in..."

"You shot Death Eaters with this?" he asked incredulously.

I scratched the back of my neck. "Uh, yeah. All three of them, actually."

His face broke out into a full fledged smile. "Did you kill any of them?" There was a fire in his eyes when he said this. A thirst for blood-Death Eater blood. I couldn't blame him but the intensity of his expression was a little worrisome.

"I'm not really sure. We left before I could check," I said, wondering again if I was a murderer. "What is all of this?" I asked, gesturing to all the trash on the floor and pulling the attention away from my possible-killer status.

George's face fell again. "Just a bunch of...stuff," he said.

Before I could say anything more, he pointed the pistol at a pile of it. There were all kinds of packages within it. Boxes that looked like they contained ears and things called Puking Pastils and the like. None of it made sense to me.

George's finger flirted with the trigger. "George," I mumbled, though I was cut off by the sound of a bullet traveling through the chamber and crashing into the pile of trash, clean through the wall. It was amplified by the fact that we were in such a small room.

"George!" I yelled, my hearing temporarily dulled, snatching the gun out of his limp hands. He didn't reply, he only stared blankly ahead at the disheveled pile.

There was screaming downstairs-words that I couldn't make out-as well as people running up the stairs. People charged through the door, wide eyed and breathing heavily. They looked from George to me, and then at the gun in my hands. I slipped it into my bag again.

"What_ happened?_" Mr. Weasley said, looking at me. They thought _I_ had shot the gun.

"I-" I began, not sure what to say. I didn't want to get George into trouble but I also didn't want everyone to think I was a homicidal maniac.

"I shot it. I just wanted to see what it was like," George said, his eyes not leaving the spot where he'd just aimed the gun.

Mrs. Weasley's face turned red and she looked as if she wanted to say something-everyone looked like they wanted to say something-but they didn't. They all stayed quiet. But there was still screaming downstairs. Since no one else looked concerned, I decided I wasn't either. "_Mudbloods_, _filth_," the woman screamed.

"I better go shut that old woman up," Bill said then, leaving with a pregnant Fleur in hand. Everyone else left, one by one, without saying a word about what just happened. Mrs. Weasley patted George's shoulder before leaving too.

"No one even reacts anymore," George said after they left, still staring wide eyed at the wall. "They won't say anything bad to me. No one."

He finally tore his eyes away and looked at me. "They're afraid I might crack. Go mad or something."

"Will you?" I asked, seeing the grief that was ignited in his eyes-the desire for revenge that I was alive with not too long ago.

"Maybe. Haven't decided yet."


	11. xi empathy

George was damaged and that was obvious as I left him still in his room where he stayed-all alone. I felt so bad but at the same time, I didn't know what I could do to make it better. And that hurt. I didn't like to see suffering. I was too empathetic.

But I tried my best to put it out of my mind-though that gunshot still rang in my ears-and went in search of Draco. I hadn't seen him since we got here and I wanted to see how he was adjusting. I owed him that.

I went up the stairs after I searched the rooms on the third floor. I had no idea how many floors there were but I hoped there weren't many more. Luckily, there were only four. The fourth floor held only two doors. One with a note on the door that read: _Do Not Enter Without the Express Permission of Regulus Arcturus Black_. I took my chances and turned the knob.

Inside was dark-so dark I couldn't see my hand in front of my face. Assuming it was empty, I started to back out. "Layla?" I heard from the darkness.

I squinted. "Draco?"

With no warning, the lanterns in the room lit up and the pitch black room became dimly lit, casting a warm glow throughout. I blinked a few times, taken aback yet again by the magic world. "Do you normally sit in dark rooms all alone?" I asked.

The room was bathed in emerald and silver. Snakes and some sort of crest adorned the walls, along with dozens of yellow newspaper clippings. "I'm just tired. I've been on the run for almost six months. Get's a little taxing..."

I moved closer to the bed he was laying on just as he sat up. "Didn't you hear all the commotion going on downstairs?"

"I may have heard something... What happened?"

I sat down on the edge of the bed. "George fired my gun. I only let him see it for a second but... I'm not really sure what happened. There are all of these packages lying on the floor in his room and when I asked him about them, he acted stand-off-ish, and then he shot at them..."

"Fred and George ran a joke shop before everything got bad. Those were probably left over products or something..."

My heart sank. "_Wow_..." I didn't know what else to say. I couldn't imagine what he was going through, locking himself up in the room he shared with his brother, leaving all of their products laying around to remind him of what he lost.

"So," I began, changing the subject, "one of the girls told me that... Well, they told me that you used to _be_ a Death Eater..." Despite the uncomfortable subject, I kept my eyes on Draco. I wanted to see his reaction.

He broke our eye contact and looked down at his hands, blush creeping across his pallid cheeks. "Well, yes. I _used_ to be one." He lifted up the sleeve of his shirt, revealing a very ominous but fading mark. It was a skull with a snake coming out of it's mouth and tangling around it. "This is what he brands his followers with. It's been fading ever since the Battle but it still hasn't gone away completely. I used to think about cutting it out of my skin when I was on the run...but then, what would I have to remind me what I'm running from?"

"_Or_ what you're fighting for," I said.

He smiled briefly. "_Or_ that. Though it doesn't look like anyone is coming up with a plan..."

"Well, what do_ you_ think we should do? You're kind of like, the insider, I suppose. I mean, you know more about the Death Eaters than anyone else..."

He was quiet for a few moments. "I think that first, it's important to know what he's capable of," he shifted on the bed and pointed to the collection of news articles. I squinted to read the headlines.

**'You-Know-Who Kills Muggle Family, You-Know-Who Nearly Obliterates Bones Family, You-Know-Who Suspected To Be Behind Invasion of Britain, Dorcas Meadowes Murderered By You-Know-Who, Death Eaters Kill Prewett Family'**. It went on and on.

"_Why are these in here?_" I whispered, my heart in my throat. It was hard to understand the extent of Voldemort's power before, but now I was staring it in the face. And I was scared.

"Regulus Black was a Death Eater. This is his room..."

"How did you know that? Does everyone know?"

"Well," he began, flitting his grey eyes back to mine. "The entire Black family supported You-Know-Who. Except Sirius. Everyone knew that. And _technically_ Regulus was my cousin..."

"Oh."

"In fact, I don't think there has ever been a member of my family who didn't support You-Know-Who. I mean, that haven't been disowned already." He looked down again. "But they're all gone now."

Without thinking, my hand rested on his. "I'm _really_ sorry, Draco," I said.

His gaze slowly lifted until it was on mine once more. "Why are you sorry? You're not the one who killed them."

I didn't know what to say, but I held his eyes. I searched for the right words-something that would make him hurt less, something that would take his pain away but nothing came. The only thought my mind could absorb was the electricity coursing through my veins, coming straight from the hand that held his.

The door opened abruptly and Draco and I jumped, our hands flying in the opposite directions. George was standing in the door way, his eyes where our hands used to be. He narrowed them then, but still said, "Meeting downstairs. Sounds like they've come up with something." And then he turned on his heels and left without a second glance.

For some reason-one that I couldn't possibly fathom-I felt guilty. "Right. Guess we should probably go downstairs," Draco said, getting up abruptly and walking out without looking back at me.

I sat on the bed for a few moments, completely and utterly confused by my own thoughts and feelings. But then I remembered what George said: _Sounds like they've come up with something_. And that was enough to get me off of my position on the bed and moving. I couldn't be distracted with other people's problems right now. I had to get my parents back and that was, and would always be, the most important thing.

**A/N: Really sorry for the wait! My computer had crashed! Also, sorry that it's short! The chapter will be longer. Promise (: And I hope you guys don't mind romance bc it's coming haha**


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